


The Riddle of the Roses

by TheDVirus



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Nygmobblepositivity, Nygmobblepot, Nygmobblepot AU - Freeform, Nygmobblepot Week 2017, One-Sided Attraction, Spells & Enchantments, True Love, True Love's Kiss, nygmobblepot week, nygmobblepotweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 13:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12133962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Second Fic for Nygmobblepot Week, Prompt: 'Crossover/AU' - BEAUTY AND THE BEAST AUEd, whilst on a quest to win the heart of the town librarian, encounters a mysterious castle and its equally mysterious (and monstrous) master.





	The Riddle of the Roses

Ed squinted at the signpost but the letters remained eligible despite the flickering light of his lantern.  
He sighed and cast an eye up at the dark clouds. Thunder rumbled as if in response to his questioning look.  
He pulled a map from his coat and examined it critically but knew instinctively that he should have at least made it to the next town over by now.  
Had he missed a turn somewhere?

‘Great start to this little expedition’, Ed grumbled, folding the useless map away.

As he placed it back in his coat, his fingers brushed against another piece of paper. He withdrew it and looked at it wistfully.  
On the page, his pencil sketch of Kristen Kringle, the village librarian, smiled up at him.  
It was the look Ed hoped to see on her face one day, instead of patient tolerance.  
She was the whole point of his journey.

The only other intellectual in their poor provincial town, Ed had felt an instant attraction to her when he had arrived in the village a couple of years before. He had come from Paris, tired from helping with the aftermath of the plague and seeking a quiet, out of the way haven to continue his scientific studies.  
Research entailed the use of research books and as such, he and Kristen’s paths had often crossed. Perhaps more often than they should have due to how much Ed enjoyed talking to her. She had caught his eye immediately, a dainty figure carrying a pile of books with a pair of bright, intelligent eyes behind her spectacles.  
She was one (if not the only) person in town who would even speak to him. Most of the town, having discerned his past through rumour and good old-fashioned snooping maintained a ‘respectable’ distance from him. Some even made signs with their fingers as he passed and he had been personally invited to attend mass by the village priest who had warned that only prayer could wash away the corruption of the plague that clung to him. After all those afflicted were simply being justly punished for their secret sins.  
Ed had not helped his popularity by snapping that helping people in pain was not a sin and resolutely refusing to attend mass in protest.  
He recalled that once word had gotten out, Kristen had brought him a freshly baked loaf of bread with a whispered explanation that she had lost her sister Isabella to the plague before disappearing swiftly back into the night.  
That had been the night that he had decided he loved her.

However, his attempts to show how much he cared for her in return had a bad habit of backfiring.  
She did not enjoy riddles and Ed had finally stopped using them as a way to begin conversations with her when she had seemed discomfited about Ed presenting here with a sweet bun with a musket ball in it one morning. Once he had explained the meaning behind it (that a beautiful woman was a dangerous thing) her unease had lessened but the initial look of horror on her face still made him cringe.  
He also still burned with embarrassment when he recalled how some of the town idiots had gotten hold of the love letter he had slipped beneath her door. Seeing how annoyed Kristen had become because of their teasing, he was just grateful he hadn’t signed the missive. He didn’t want to risk ruining her reputation by them associating her with the town outcast.  
His most recent attempt, reorganising the library while she had been running errands, had been just as unsuccessful (if not more so due to her physically pushing him out of the door as he babbled apologies) as the previous attempts.

Thus, Ed had resolved to stop trying to win her affection through mediocre acts and instead prove to her that he could provide for her.  
Money talked and in such a small village, it drowned out anything else.  
So, he had packed up what he could fit in a saddlebag and set off to seek his fortune.  
Kristen deserved a man she could be proud of and Ed would become that man for her.  
Who else in that village could she possibly be happy with?  
That muscle headed ignoramus Sheriff Dougherty?

Suddenly there was a bright flash as lightning arched down and a nearby tree burst into flames from its touch.  
Ed’s horse reared, whinnying in terror and Ed was bucked off.  
He fell and rolled, jarring his shoulder as the horse took flight, its hooves shattering the glass of his lantern as it sped down the trail.  
Scrambling to his feet and cursing the heavens as heavy rain began to fall, Ed ran after his panicked mount, ignoring the brambles that scratched his face and tore at his clothes. He could barely see where he was going but kept running: he couldn’t afford to lose his horse!  
He gasped as he suddenly felt empty space beneath his feet and the tilting, sickening sensation of gravity taking hold. He tumbled down the hill, leaves scattering around him as he desperately tried to halt his descent. Eventually he slowed as the hill levelled out and finally rolled to a stop. Grunting as he registered pain all over his body, he got to his feet slowly, mentally checking off each body part in his head and brushing his coat free of leaves. Thankfully nothing seemed to be broken.  
He winced as he walked forward at both the aches in his body and the cold feeling of water in his boots. Despite his discomfort, he became aware of the clipping noise of his horse’s hooves in the distance as well as the fact that he too, seemed to be standing on stone, instead of the undergrowth of the dense forest.  
He pushed back a large bush and gaped at the sight that greeted him.  
There hadn’t been a castle on his map.  
The bush he had pushed back was one of several decorative hedges on either side of a tall pair of iron gates. Feeling drops trailing down his ponytail and down his neck, Ed shivered. Where there was a castle, there was shelter.

‘What has no hands but might knock on your door and you better open up if it does?’ Ed said to himself as he pushed the gate open.

Ed was surprised to find the main oak door to the castle was unlocked but hesitated before entering.  
The towering edifice was dark and oddly silent. As lightning flashed behind the towers, Ed was unhelpfully reminded of some of the spine-tingling tales the villagers told on bad nights.  
They had seemed ridiculous in the comfortable light of the tavern but now, standing in a similar scenario to one of the many hapless protagonists, Ed felt nervous.

‘Don’t castles have guards?’ Ed wondered aloud, ‘I didn’t realise they let people just walk in’.

His horse, drinking contentedly from a stone trough under a wooden shelter nearby gave an unconcerned huff in response.

The hall was quiet as Ed entered and his footsteps caused small clouds of dust to swirl around his feet. Cobwebs fluttered in the breeze and stone gargoyles grimaced and leered down from their perches along the ceiling.  
Despite the disused and foreboding atmosphere, Ed was reassured by the presence of multiple lit candelabras.  
Light meant people.  
He followed the enticing sound of a fire crackling from behind a slightly ajar door and couldn’t help but give a happy exclamation when he saw his assumption had been correct. He practically ran towards the stone fireplace, rubbing his hands over the fire within to restore feeling to his chilled fingers.  
Within seconds, he was pleasantly warm and becoming more concerned with his surroundings over his physical comfort.

‘Hello?’ he called, wincing as his voice echoed loudly.

He jumped as he heard a scuttling noise near his feet and relaxed when he saw it nothing but a rat.  
As he watched it scamper away his eyes became drawn to a long table.

He had seen it out of the corner of his eye as he had entered but he had been sure there had not been any food set out and he hadn’t seen any servants enter. A clean napkin sat beside a fine silver plate and cutlery and a deep red wine sat in a crystal glass. A beef roast sat beside a bowl of potatoes and steamed vegetables. A fresh baguette cut on a wooden board sat beside a small range of cheeses.  
The tablecloth and the crockery were all spotless, totally at odds with the peeling wallpaper and dusty carpet.  
Ed took a grape from a porcelain bowl and squeezed it experimentally between his fingers. Juice leaked down his fingers and he licked it clean. It was real enough.  
And delicious.  
His stomach took this as a cue to rumble loudly and Ed swallowed on reflex.  
He was not about to help himself to someone else’s dinner! No matter how hungry he was!  
But, the owner of such a large house wouldn’t miss a few grapes, would they?  
He took two more grapes and ate them quickly then prepared to leave, lest he be tempted any further.  
As he turned however, he noticed the number of grapes.  
It was as if he had not eaten any grapes at all.  
He ate another and was amazed to see a replacement materialise out of thin air.  
Picking it up, he examined it, intrigued.

‘Is this magic?’ he asked and was startled to hear an answer.

‘A basic enchantment. Unfortunately, the one for cleaning wore off long ago’.

The young male voice was quiet but carried an innate air of authority: Ed recognised it as an aristocrat’s voice but could not locate the speaker.

‘Who’s there?’ he asked, eyes darting around the room. 

The ceiling was so cavernous it was impossible to locate the direction of the source but Ed could see nobody in the room with him.

‘The master of this castle’, the voice replied, ‘Please, help yourself’.

‘I-I don’t mean to intrude’, Ed said.

‘No intrusion. It’s been a while since I’ve had company. Help yourself’. 

‘Well, in that case, thank you’, Ed said, secretly grateful they could dispense with the formalities and he could get down to filling his stomach, ‘Aren’t you going to join me?’

‘No. When your horse ran into the courtyard, I expected the rider wouldn’t be far behind. Are you enjoying it?’

‘It’s delicious!’

‘Where are you headed?’

‘To be honest I’m not sure but I’m sure I’ll know it when I see it’.

‘It’s for a lady I’ll wager’.

‘How did you know?’

‘What else would make a sensible man venture out in a storm like that?’

‘This is a very special lady’, Ed laughed, wiping his mouth with a napkin, ‘May I help you with the dishes before I leave?’

The food vanished as Ed stood up.

‘Oh, well, thank you for your hospitality’.

There was no reply save for the ‘chunk’ of the room door closing.  
Ed realised the master had been speaking to him from the main hall and now the meal was over, evidently had had enough of Ed’s company.

Ed blinked as he exited back into the main hall.  
All of the candelabras had been extinguished bathing the hall in almost complete darkness save for two sconces flanking the main door, their flickering flames generating dancing shadows on the cold walls.  
Ed jumped as he caught sight of a large statue standing in the corner as he walked towards the door.  
He was surprised not to have noticed it on the way in.  
It was much more ornate than the other more serpentine shapes carved into the walls. It was even draped in real materials instead of carved clothing.  
Standing as tall as he was, the sculpture was of a strange creature: half man and half bird.  
It was dressed in what had once been fine clothes but, like everything else in the castle, these now showed signs of use: its longcoat was ragged and its waistcoat was frayed. Ed assumed the clothing must have been an aesthetic choice at one point. After all a creature with such lethal talons on the ends of its fingers was bound to tear its clothes every time it tried to undo a button. It wore no shoes: its avian, clawed feet would have made them uncomfortable and its trousers only extended to its backward facing knees.  
He leaned in for a better look at the elegant yet deadly curving horns rising from a hair like crest of black feathers. The creature’s face was that of a bird of prey: a sleek black beak in a white feathered face and a monocle made of real glass perched over one eye in a mockery of aristocratic fashion.  
Its pale eyes seemed to be made of a different kind of green glass or gemstone. They shone in the flickering candlelight and seemed to almost follow Ed as he began to move away.  
Despite the fright it had initially given him, the more Ed looked at it, the more he liked it.  
There was a primal power to it that was utterly lacking in most of the other more saccharine artworks he was familiar with.

‘Superb craftsmanship’, he commented, ‘Almost looks alive’.

Once Ed had left and closed the doors behind him, the ‘statue’ sighed heavily and took another bite of the dead rat carcass it had kept hidden behind its back.

As Ed descended the steps to where his horse was waiting patiently, he noticed a splash of colour.  
Making a detour and walking around a large hedge he emerged through a wooden archway into a rose garden with blooms of multiple shades and hues dotted on the bushes.  
Ed smiled at a small pink one.  
Kristen usually had flowers in the library and had a rose broach that looked just like it.  
On impulse he picked it and smelt its sweet fragrance.  
The ungodly screech that came next made him drop it.  
He was knocked off his feet as something thundered past him.  
At first he thought it was one of the large wolves rumoured to prowl the forest but as he struggled to his feet, he saw it was far larger than any wolf.  
For one irrational moment he thought the sculpture from the main hall had somehow come to life but then realised with terror that he had simply mistaken it for a statue!  
Had it been following him, waiting to pounce all this time?!

‘How dare you?’ it growled, serrated edges of its beak flashing in the moonlight.

‘You-you can talk?’ Ed asked dumbly, too numb with astonishment at the realization that the thing in front of him was speaking with the smooth voice of the so-called master of the castle to respond to the creature’s accusation.

‘How dare you?!’ the Beast demanded again, slamming one gnarled fist into a nearby statue and cracking it with the force of the blow,’ Thief!’

Ed backed up as the irate creature walked through the marble chips that had come loose from the statue, the sharp stone crushed to powder beneath its hard feet.  
Ed realised the creature was glaring at the bloom in his hand.

‘I-I’m sorry!’ Ed cried, offering the rose in a futile attempt to make amends, ‘I-I just thought that-‘

Holding the rose out only seemed to anger the creature more. Ed flinched and dropped the flower as it screeched again: a roar underscored with the harsh grating cry of an avian predator.

‘No! It’s ruined! You’ve ruined it!’ the Beast growled, advancing on Ed.

‘Stay back!’ Ed warned, readying the pistol from his waistcoat.

He clicked the hammer and pointed it at the approaching brute, praying he had loaded it correctly.  
Only for the ball to drop unceremoniously out of the barrel.  
Both of them watched as it rolled along the ground before finally coming to a humiliating stop.  
The Beast picked it up between two long talons and threw it over its hunched shoulder with a strange twittering noise that Ed realised was cruel laughter.  
But then the laughter stopped and the Beast dropped to all fours as it resumed its advance, eyes glowing in the darkness.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed my hospitality’, it sneered.

Ed gasped as it suddenly leapt up at him and the collar of his coat became encased in a strong, vicelike grip.  
He felt his feet dangling off the ground as the Beast regarded him balefully.

‘You’re going to be here for a while’, it finished and began to drag him back towards the dark castle.

 

Ed sighed with satisfaction as he heard the lock click open.  
Casting aside the bent hair pin he had taken from his ponytail, he eased the cell door open, grateful that one of the few things in the castle that seemed to be well maintained were the hinges to the door of his cell.  
He stepped out and craned his ears for the clicking of the Beast’s talons.  
He heard nothing.  
That had not changed in the last hour since the Beast had unceremoniously deposited him in the tower cell and left him to reflect on his mistake.  
He was not about to make a second by staying in the castle any longer.

 

The Beast watched Ed, mounted on his similarly liberated horse flee the castle grounds and snapped his beak dismissively as he regarded the clouds. He drummed his talons on the rail of the balcony, the curtains of his bedroom behind him billowing in the night wind.  
The storm had now fully passed which meant the predators of the forest would be out in force.  
If the fool had left when he had been supposed to he would have made it back to the road unmolested but now the numerous howls of wolves were strong and clear on the wind.  
With such a high, bright full moon, it would be simple for them to pick up his tracks and a galloping horse was not the quietest beast.  
He nipped at a feather protruding from his waistcoat.  
He should just let the interloper go.  
Why should he care what happened to a base thief?  
This is what he got for indulging his curiosity. Nobody had come to the castle in years so of course he had become curious when he had seen the horse canter into the courtyard with its dismounted rider hurrying after it. And he couldn’t deny the conversation with the rider, however brief, had been pleasant enough.  
Even if it had made him feel melancholy once he realised it would be over so soon.  
Luckilly before he could become too low, fury had overtaken him instead.  
If anything he should be grateful the thief had freed himself. He had only been locked up because the Beast had been so furious he couldn’t think of anything else but punishing the intruder. He hadn’t given thought to the maintenance of the prisoner or indeed how long his sentence would be. His mother had often reprimanded him for his temper and hasty actions he later regretted.  
He tried to ignore the eyes of the face in the portrait behind him. Despite the static, happy expression of the woman in the frame, he felt as if her gaze was accusatory, urging him to reconsider.  
After a brief moment, he gave a rasping hiss of frustration and leapt from the window, landed easily on one of the gabled roofs on all fours and, remaining in that stance to hasten his speed, began his pursuit of the rider.

 

Ed swung the branch again but it was obvious the wolves were swiftly losing their fear of it.  
There were six of the grey furred brutes, their yellow eyes shining in the gloom and hot breath misty in the cool night air. Behind Ed, his horse was frozen in fright, huffing and starting every time the wolves took a slight step forward.  
Ed had unwittingly urged his horse into this canyon to escape the pursuing wolves but had run straight into a dead end. The natural ‘walls’ too slippery and steep to climb back out.  
Ed swung once more and felt the bottom of his stomach drop out as the biggest wolf of the pack grabbed the branch in its powerful jaws and snapped it in two before spitting it out and leaping for Ed, its patience and caution exhausted.  
Ed managed to give a wordless shout of fear which was cut short as the wolf was suddenly lifted into the air.  
The bird like Beast roared defiantly in the wolf’s muzzled face before casting it aside like a doll, talons having carved bloody chunks into its neck.  
The Beast got down on all fours, feathers bristling and talons dripping with blood as it glared at the wolves, interposing itself between them and Ed.  
There was a moment of sickening, expectant silence and then the air erupted with snarls and slavering teeth.  
Days later, Ed would be able to replay the exact motions of the fight in his head despite the speed and fury of the assault. He kept his eyes on the Beast the whole time, confused by his unexpected defence and awed by his ferocity.  
Despite being outnumbered six to one, the Beast tore through the wolves, seemingly tireless and heedless of their snapping jaws and claws as they leapt at him. Its talons flashed in the moonlight as they sliced through the air and that keen beak aimed for their eyes like a loosed arrow. Their growls and yaps were drowned out every time the Beast gave one of those shrill, keening screeches and before long the wolves’ snarling degenerated into panicked whimpers as they fled. Three of them lay where they had fallen, blood swiftly cooling beneath the moonlight. One had both its eyes missing.  
Ed sank to his knees once the last wolf vanished from sight, overcome with the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the release of the tension from the pulse pounding fight.  
The Beast panted harshly, its own exhaustion showing now that the battle had passed.  
Ed instinctively stood and took a step back as the Beast turned, blood staining his white face feathers. Its eyes were strangely unfocused and as it tried to stand, it stumbled and fell with a soft cry of pain.  
That was when Ed saw the Beast’s leg.  
It was twisted at a bad angle and blood had soaked into the hem of its short trousers and was running down its legs. Ed could see it mingling with the wolf blood on it’s talons. Even from a distance, Ed could see it was a bad wound.  
Despite the pain and the slippery mud beneath him, the Beast kept trying to rise.  
After two more fruitless attempts, Ed finally snapped out of his daze, his pragmatic mind offering instruction.

‘Stop it!’ he said, ‘You’re making it worse!’

The Beast turned its head to look at him properly and grunted with pain. Ed could see unshed tears in its eyes and the saliva dripping from its beak as it panted.  
Ed looked at his waiting horse, the exit to the canyon then back at the Beast.  
He could hear more wolves howling and knew it wouldn’t be long before they returned with reinforcements.

‘Help me’, the Beast pleaded, all trace of its prior savagery vanished, ‘Please…I’ll give you anything you want…from…my…treasury’.

The Beast slumped down, face first into the mud, breathing harshly, finally overwhelmed by the pain.

 

Ed ignored another pained screech from his unwilling patient as he applied the warm cloth to the gash just below its knee.  
He didn’t know what he had expected from his journey when he had left his village but it certainly hadn’t involved playing triage nurse to some kind of avian human hybrid.  
He wasn’t sure if the Beast had been lying about the treasury but looking at the wealth of the room they were both in despite its clutter and disorder, he was quietly confident the creature had been truthful.  
The room was the Beast’s private quarters and resembled a crow’s nest more than a human dwelling. Broken furniture littered the floor and the tapestries lining the wall each had tears in them. There were numerous shiny objects arranged on shelves in no particular order. Ed could see jewels, assorted coins and even pieces of cutlery mixed together.  
Only one thing in the room seemed untouched.  
It was a portrait of three people: a man, woman and a boy who (Ed had discerned through the facial features) was obviously their son. They were all smiling and the woman was holding a bouquet of roses.

The Beast was lying on a large four poster bed with torn curtains. Ed had swept the various other blankets that had been fashioned into a makeshift nest on the mattress to enable the Beast to lie flat while Ed tended to his wound.  
Ed was impressed he was still conscious following their hasty flight back to the castle and the subsequent, halting journey upstairs to his chamber but with all the noise he was making, he half wished the Beast would just pass out and let him finish his work in peace. At least the creature had finally stopped pecking at his wound in an animalistic and thoroughly unhygienic attempt at cleaning it.

‘I told you to hold still’, Ed chided gently.

‘If you hadn’t run away this wouldn’t have happened!’ the Beast snapped, talons twitching spasmodically as Ed pressed the warm cloth into the wound. 

‘If you hadn’t locked me up I wouldn’t have had to escape!’ Ed retorted.

‘Well you shouldn’t have stolen a rose!’

‘Well you should learn to control your temper!’

The Beast seethed but looked away, tossing its head haughtily.

‘What kind of man doesn’t know how to shoot a gun anyway?’ it grumbled.

‘What kind of m-….’person’ would lock someone up forever over a flower?!’ Ed snapped, stung by the Beast’s insult.

The Beast seemed about to reply but instead gave an odd, disgruntled sounding caw and settled back into the chair, feathered head resting sulkily on one clawed hand.  
Sensing the argument was over or at least adjourned, Ed readied his needle.

‘Now, hold still while I stitch this. It’s going to sting’. 

Ed’s frowned as he assessed the damage. It was a deep cut unlikely to ever heal fully.  
The Beast tensed and gave a whistling, shaky exhalation as Ed began his work.  
In a bid to distract him and to keep himself focused, Ed asked the question that had been bothering him since he had helped the injured Beast mount his horse.

‘Why did you come after me? To lock me up again?’

‘Would you prefer to be wolf dung?’ the Beast said through its gritted beak.

‘There’s no need to be so-‘ Ed began but trying to remember the Beast was in pain, took a deep breath and a more reconciliatory tone, ‘I was just trying to say: ‘thank you’’.

The Beast looked somewhat abashed at Ed’s thanks and nodded.

‘You’re welcome’, it said curtly.

They sat in silence until Ed had finished stitching. 

‘How bad is it anyway?’ the Beast asked as Ed carefully wiped away any excess blood.

The Beast’s anxious tone surprised Ed. It was disarming to hear such a formidable creature so hesitant.

‘Hard to say if there’ll be any permanent damage’, Ed said truthfully, ‘You should use a cane until it heals at least but I’ll still need to check it every day’.

‘You’re staying?’ the Beast asked, unable to hide the tone of surprise from its voice.

‘As a ‘guest’ not a ‘prisoner’’, Ed said warningly, ‘Remember your promise. Once you’re healed, I get my reward from the treasury and I’m out the door. Agreed?’

Ed extended a hand.

The Beast slowly reached out and took it.  
The creature’s grip was surprisingly gentle: Ed could feel the curved claws barely pricking the back of his hand as they shook hands to seal their pact.

‘I like to know the names of my houseguests’, the Beast commented.

‘I’m Edward. Edward Nygma. Or just Ed if you like’.

‘Is that what your friends call you?’

‘What is very personal but everyone uses it more than you do?’ Ed asked, changing the subject and hoping the Beast wouldn’t notice.

‘Are-are you asking me a riddle?’ the Beast asked, feathered brow furrowing, perplexed.

‘Do you like riddles?’

‘No’.

‘Does that mean you give up?’

‘No!’ the Beast said, feathers rising, ‘I just don’t see why you had to ask a riddle instead of-Arrrgh!’

Ed held up a damaged, kinked feather that he had just yanked from the Beast’s leg.

‘So you would be distracted while I did that’, he explained, ignoring the Beast’s glower, ‘Well then, let’s have the answer. I’m curious to hear it’.

The Beast blinked at the question and for a moment Ed wondered if the creature even had a name. Even if he did, would Ed be able to pronounce it?  
He needn’t have worried. 

‘Os-Oswald’, the Beast said, seeming almost surprised at the sound of it, ‘My name is Oswald’.

 _‘How long has he been alone here?’_ Ed thought to himself, _‘When was the last time someone used his name?’_

Feeling yet another unexpected twinge of sympathy and having felt the keen sting of loneliness himself, Ed smiled.

‘Suits you’, he said, ‘’Lord’ Oswald?’

The Beast gave an odd start before his eyes turned sad. He began to settle down and pull a blanket over to cover himself.  
Ed had the feeling his innocent enquiry had touched on something exposed and painful for the creature. He had seen that look often on the faces of plague survivors. He had always thought of it as the look of those ‘left behind’.

‘No’, Oswald said, face now hidden beneath the blanket, ‘My father was the Lord’.

After a few seconds, Oswald was fast asleep, making odd chirruping snores and Ed watched his head feathers rise and fall in sleep. Despite the blood drying on the mattress, Ed decided to let him sleep for now. It had been a long night for both of them.  
Realising Oswald probably wouldn’t awaken until morning, Ed stood and, taking a candelabra, began his search for a bedroom of his own.  
He cautiously stepped over the scattered detritus of furniture and objects on the floor and halted at the undamaged portrait.

‘If you have it, you don’t share it. If you share it, you don’t have it’, Ed mused, giving a backwards glance to Oswald’s sleeping form.

Ed could never resist a mystery and there was something distinctly familiar about the pale eyes of the young boy in the picture. 

 

‘I can use this?!’

Oswald couldn’t keep a smile from his face at Ed’s wide-eyed wonder at the size and scale of the castle library. As he ran from one shelf to the other, Oswald thought Ed was like a little boy, overwhelmed by all of the exciting things to explore.

‘I’m getting a bit bored of you fussing over me and you seem the bookish type so…’

Ed leapt onto a roller ladder and laughed as it swept along the shelf. It came to an abrupt stop and he nearly fell off due to the sudden cessation of speed.  
The Beast gave a start as if to catch him but as Ed jumped down and landed easily, realised there was no need. Oswald thought it was just as well: with the cane he was forced to use, he wasn’t going anywhere fast.  
But, thanks to Ed’s attentive care, his leg, instead of being in constant pain, instead now contented itself with an occasional twinge.

Oswald had fully expected Ed to have raided his treasury while he slept that first night and been genuinely surprised when he had awoken to find Ed cleaning the room, exasperated by the state of the Beast’s living conditions and decrying them as ‘unsuitable’ environs for a recovering patient.  
Giving Ed the run of his library seemed the best way for Oswald to make up for doubting Ed’s honour as well as his initial discourtesy towards him.  
Despite their tentative unease around each other those first few days, Oswald had grown accustomed to Ed’s presence very quickly as well as appreciative of his conversation and intellect. He had never been the most sociable person but he had underestimated how much he had missed hearing someone else’s voice.  
They had both been surprised to find they actually had a few things in common: from trivial things like playing the piano and chess to the more melancholy fact that both of them had virtually non-existent social circles.  
Oswald had even gotten used to the riddles.

‘This is incredible!’ Ed cried, ‘Thank you!’

‘Yes, well’, Oswald said, scratching the feathers on the back of his neck, ‘I’m glad you like it’.

‘Have you read them all?’ Ed asked, lifting down a large hardback and beginning to flick through it.

‘Not all of them’, Oswald said, ‘Some of them are in Greek’.

‘Was that actually a joke?’ Ed asked, raising an eyebrow cockily.

‘Maybe’, Oswald sniffed and preened his shoulder haughtily.

 

‘These are your mother’s roses aren’t they?’ Ed asked, closing his book.

Oswald looked up from his own book in surprise at the sudden exclamation. They had decided to bring their respective volumes outside to enjoy because of the afternoon sunshine.

‘How did you-’ Oswald began.

‘The boy in the picture’, Ed replied softly, ‘Your eyes are the same’.

Oswald gave a curt nod. There was no point denying it.

‘What happened to you?’

Oswald didn’t answer. He set his book down on the edge of the bench they were sitting on and looked pensively at the ground.  
Ed flinched as he realised he was probably being too nosy again.  
His blunt curiosity often made people uncomfortable.  
He thought about placing a hand on Oswald’s shoulder but stopped himself, unsure of how Oswald would react to the physical contact.

‘I’m sorry. It was insensitive of me to bring this up’.

‘No’, Oswald said thoughtfully, ‘I’m just thinking about where to begin’.

He took a deep breath, released it and began his story.

‘I suppose it started when she came to the door on that stormy night just like you did. She was shivering, exhausted and starving. She managed to tell us her name, Grace, before collapsing in the entrance hall.  
My father took her in, gave her the finest guest room, fed and clothed her. I objected to him offering a stranger my mother’s clothes but eventually gave in to his wishes. Grace was ‘obviously’ a lady of breeding and was used to a certain lifestyle. Besides my mother, dead for ten years, had no further use for the dresses. I suppose my father must have felt those ten years of loneliness very keenly because the next thing I knew I was standing watching him marry Grace. I remember her kissing me on the cheek, promising she would never try to replace my mother and that she loved my father with all her heart’.

Ed saw Oswald’s mane feathers flare but did not interrupt.

‘What she meant was she was going to eradicate every trace of my mother and she loved my father’s money with all her heart.  
She removed all of the paintings of my mother from the castle save for the one in my room. She avoided me whenever she could and wouldn’t have dared enter my room uninvited following an incident where she had tried to destroy my mother’s garden calling it ‘garish’ and ‘sentimental’. I had held a knife to her throat and warned her to never enter the garden again on pain of death. She obviously believed me and kept quiet because my father never mentioned it and she stayed away from the roses afterwards.  
When my father fell mysteriously ill, she dismissed all of our servants so she could care for him alone. She had some knowledge of the art of magic and enchanted the house to care for itself meaning there was no use for servants. Once again, I objected, but my father, weary and weak, begged me to be kind to Grace and not upset someone who was taking care of him so well and without complaint’.

Oswald’s head swivelled and, even though he knew Oswald was not angry with him it took a lot of self-control for Ed not to recoil from the intimidating anger in Oswald’s avian face.

‘Tell me’, Oswald demanded, ‘If she was taking ‘such good care of him’ then why was he dead by Winter?!  
I only discovered the truth going through his things and smelt the ‘medicine’ she had been giving him.  
She had poisoned him and dismissed the servants to remove any potential witnesses to her crime!  
I caught her in the garden, trying to sneak out with a sack full of my mother’s jewellery. She stepped on a rose and crushed it trying to back away from me. She didn’t deny what she had done.  
I don’t remember much of what happened next.  
I remember the smell though: the metallic smell of blood and the sweetness of the roses. I remember her bleeding on the ground and the knife in my stained hand.  
And I remember the words she spat up at me as blood bubbled past her mouth and she clutched the gaping hole in her stomach.  
She called me a ‘beast’ and said she would give me a face ‘no woman, not even a mother, could love’’.  
Then I remember flashes of pain. Awful, searing pain, the feeling of being torn and reshaped, claws bursting from my fingers and my nose breaking as it….as I changed.  
When I woke up, she was dead and I was no longer myself’.

Oswald kept his eyes on the ground as a bitter smile curled his beak.

‘So now you know’, he finished, ‘I’m not only a monster but a killer as well’.

Ed supposed he should have felt frightened but he didn’t. Perhaps ‘normal’ people would have felt fear but all he felt was a simmering anger at what the woman Grace had done. Oswald may have killed her in an act of vengeance but it had been just.  
It had been right.

Oswald only ever seemed to become violent when he felt he needed to protect something: his father’s memory, his mother’s roses, Ed…

‘She deserved it’, Ed said coldly, ‘She killed your father and cursed you’.

‘Yes’, Oswald agreed, a warm rush of gratitude sweeping through him for Ed’s support, ‘And the curse is linked to this place. Every time another rose dies, I feel strange. As if an unseen clock is ticking. She couldn’t even let me enjoy them. She tainted them’.

‘How did your mother pass?’

‘Plague’.

This time, Ed couldn’t help it.  
He placed his hand on Oswald’s shoulder. Oswald gave a startled chirrup and his mane feathers rose slightly.  
Ed worried he had made a mistake but then realised Oswald had not pulled away.

‘I’m so sorry’, Ed said soothingly, ‘If I’d known I would never have picked one of the roses’.

‘There’s no way you could have known’.

‘I can’t believe not a single person apart from you realised what kind of person Grace really was!’

‘People only care about how you look’, Oswald laughed cynically, ‘Even before this, I wasn’t exactly the ideal image of a prince. It was easier to believe the elegant, charming lady of the house over her resentful, scrawny stepson. Think about it, even you’re only here because of the reward I’ve promised you’.

Ed blinked. He had totally forgotten about the reward.

‘Maybe at first’, he conceded.

He got up from the bench and began to stride towards the garden entrance.  
Oswald cocked his head as Ed turned with a flourish, tapping a finger on the side of his head.

‘But I can’t leave a puzzle unsolved. There’s bound to be some dusty old book in the library that’ll help you and if there is, I will find it!’

‘But, that’s not part of our deal!’ Oswald cried.

‘I know’, Ed smiled, ‘But we’re friends. Aren’t we?’

He didn’t wait for an answer before speeding on his way to the library. 

 

‘According to the books, curses always contain the key to breaking them in the words used. So, all we have to do is find the answer before the last rose dies-please don’t eat that!’

Oswald, straightening up from his crouched position on the floor, looked at Ed then at the wriggling rat in his claws.

‘What?’ he asked, irritated.

Ed closed the tome on magical theory and placed it out of the way of his own untouched dinner. He pointed at the rat then at the floor. Oswald grumbled but let the rat go. The undoubtedly grateful animal ran for its life and disappeared into a hole in the skirting board.

‘When did you start eating rats?’ Ed asked.

‘A few years ago’, Oswald shrugged, ruefully looking at the hole, ‘One day I just caught one and something made me eat it. Good thing they taste better than they look since it was the same day the castle’s food magic stopped working’.

‘But don’t you see?’ Ed cried, gesturing to the soup and rolls sitting in front of him, ‘It hasn’t stopped working at all! I think the reason the castle doesn’t make food for you is because of your state of mind’.

‘What do you mean?’

‘If you consider yourself a monster, so will the castle. And you’re not. Despite how you look right now, your base species is still human. I’ll show you. Sit down’.

Oswald carefully lowered himself into a seat at the table and Ed pushed in the chair.  
Ed’s theory was instantly proven correct as a bowl of soup and a plate of rolls appeared in front of Oswald’s, the mirror image of the meal the table had conjured for Ed.  
Oswald sniffed the soup experimentally and licked his beak in anticipation. 

‘When was the last time you sat at a table to eat?’ Ed asked, picking up his own bowl and taking a closer seat to Oswald.

‘I can’t remember the last time’, Oswald admitted, ‘Or the last time I had real food!’

He eagerly grabbed for his spoon only to misjudge it due to his large claws. He tried twice more and gave a compulsive, forlorn sounding trill when he realised the utensil was too thin for him to grip and even had he wished to drink out of the bowl like a dog, the shape of his beak would not allow it.  
Ed seized upon an idea and put his own spoon down.  
He lifted his bowl and looked pointedly at Oswald.  
Oswald understood and picked up his own bowl. As Ed had expected, this, unlike the spoon, proved no challenge.

‘I can’t remember the last time I ate with company’, Ed said, remembering all the lonely nights in his small, cramped house trying to make a fulfilling meal out of stale bread and dried meat.

‘Food definitely tastes better with company’, Oswald smiled, raising his bowl as if to toast Ed’s health.

Ed returned the gesture and then the smile as they both drank deeply.

 

Oswald smirked as he heard a gunshot and then Ed give a whispered curse.

‘How are you getting on?’ he called.

Ed put the pistol down on the garden table and looked critically at the sack he and Oswald had set up as an impromptu training dummy. Three burst bags lay beside the wooden stand they had set up, the results of that morning’s shooting practice.  
‘It’s still pulling to the left’, Ed said.

‘You’re still closing one eye aren’t you?’

Ed pushed his glasses up self-consciously.

‘Are you sure Miss Kringle will be impressed by me being able to shoot?’ he asked, coming to join Oswald. 

He took care to muffle his footsteps as he saw Oswald had managed to attract a group of ravens with the leftovers from breakfast. One was perched on his shoulder.

‘Of course! How else are you going to protect her from wild animals or fight a duel to defend her honour?’ Oswald asked.

Ed doubted there was much chance of a bear attack in a library but was unsure about the possibility of a duel so conceded the point.

‘Better safe than sorry I suppose’, he said.

He knelt down beside Oswald and watched the ravens pecking about his feet. No songbirds ever came to the castle despite the gardens, only the ravens. Ed wondered if it was a side effect of the curse.  
Ed fidgeted slightly as a hazy memory of his dream from the night before surfaced in his mind.  
He had been with Kristen, the two of them naked and entwined, making love beneath the stars. Ed had been adrift on the waves of bliss even as his imaginary Kristen moved him gently onto his stomach and took hold of his hips. He hadn’t questioned it when he had felt something hard press against his entrance. He had welcomed it even, intoxicated by the new sensation and aroused by the strength of the grip on his hips even as his inner logician told him the claws on his hips could not belong to Kristen. Before he knew it, it was no longer Kristen he was with but a larger figure. A familiar figure. He remembered the feathers tickling his arched back and the sharp sensation of claw tips poking the flesh of his hips as he had cried out his new partner’s name in sheer mindless pleasure.  
It had still been on his lips when he had awoken and it had not been an isolated incident.

‘You’re so gentle with them’, Ed commented, banishing the dream back to the shadows where it couldn’t distract him.

‘They probably see me as some long-lost cousin’, Oswald said wryly, ‘Why couldn’t Grace at least have given me wings?’

‘I always liked the idea of flying’, Ed said wistfully, ‘To just, fly off to wherever you felt like’.

The ravens, now that the food had been exhausted took wing as one, rising into the air and vanishing into the undergrowth. 

‘Then again, where would I go?’ Oswald asked, rising with the help of his cane.

Ed could sense another one of Oswald’s periods of melancholy coming on. Being out in the garden, despite the attachment he felt to it, only seemed to remind him of his predicament. Despite his best efforts, Ed was not any closer to finding a solution to the curse.  
And there seemed to be fewer roses every day…

‘I’ve read about birds that live in the Far South called penguins that can’t fly’, Ed said, using his vast esoteric knowledge in an attempt to lighten the mood.

‘Really?’

‘Yes. They’re excellent swimmers and they can endure the cold more than any flying bird can. They’re fascinating creatures’.

Oswald gave an interested coo and Ed felt gratified to see him look a little brighter. 

‘You’re pretty fascinating too’, Ed added after a moment.

Oswald laughed flippantly but Ed smiled knowingly as he noticed his feathers ruffling.  
Oswald was flattered but pretending he wasn’t.

‘That’s a very kind word for ‘ugly’’.

‘’Ugly’ is just a hurtful word used by the ignorant’, Ed corrected, ‘I’m not ignorant and you are ‘fascinating’’.

‘When you put it like that…maybe being a ‘Penguin’ isn’t so bad’.

As they began to make their way inside, a single rose petal fell from the bush to their right. Ed saw Oswald’s claws close reflexively.  
There were only roses left on one bush now.  
The rest of the garden was bare.

‘What will you do when we break the curse?’ Ed asked with forced brightness, ‘Made any plans?’

‘Not really’.

Ed bit back a sigh at Oswald’s doleful tone. It seemed his efforts had been for naught.  
It was a relief when he heard Oswald continue.

‘But I think I’d like to go to a ball again. I miss dancing’.

‘I’ve never been dancing’, Ed confessed, bolstered by Oswald’s reminiscent smile.

‘Really?’ Oswald asked, cocking his head as a plan began to form.

 

Three nights later, Ed entered the castle ballroom and marvelled at the dozens of lit candles set up in ornate holders. The whole room was spotless, the reflection of the flames giving the smooth, polished floor the look of a sea of stars beneath them.  
Oswald was standing at a piano in the corner.  
It was an intriguing contraption that had been gifted to his grandfather: a piano that could play itself. 

‘You did all this?’ Ed asked as he approached.

‘You can’t have a dance (even a practice one) without some atmos...’

Oswald trailed off as he saw Ed.

‘Well, what do you think?’ Ed asked, brushing himself down.

Ed had forsaken his usual plain clothing for a green ensemble decorated with intricate swirling black velvet patterns. The black matched the colour of the ribbon tying his hair back and silver buckles gleamed on his shoes.  
Oswald had often noted Ed’s lean frame (and had in fact been noticing it a lot more than he used to) but the colours in his new outfit complimented his dark eyes and hair perfectly, making his pale skin seem almost luminescent thanks to the candlelight.  
Oswald swallowed hard and cleared his throat when he realised Ed was still waiting for his assessment.

‘It-it looks really good on you. I wasn’t sure about the colour and I thought maybe the coat wouldn’t be long enough and-‘

Ed held up a hand and Oswald’s beak snapped shut.

‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn’, Ed said, ‘Did you make this for me?’

‘It’s nothing. I-I’ve just had a lot of time on my…’

Oswald trailed off as he looked down at his claws.  
Not hands.  
Oswald’s eyes widened as Ed gently took hold of them and began to draw him towards the dance floor.

‘Shall we get started?’ Ed asked.

Oswald nodded, hastily hobbled to the piano and clicked the required mechanism into place.  
Ed bowed low as Oswald returned to the centre of the floor.  
Oswald returned the gesture as best he could with a quick bob.

Oswald had actually anticipated taking the ‘female’ position but saw that the height difference between he and Ed was going to make that difficult.  
Thanks to weeks of Ed’s instruction and constant reminders Oswald no longer hunched his shoulders and it was now obvious he stood at least a head taller than the other man.  
He was trying to figure out a way to explain his error in such a way that would not embarrass either of them but was prevented from doing so by Ed placing his clawed hand on his waist.  
Ed smiled as he placed his own hand on Oswald’s shoulder and shrugged nonchalantly.  
Oswald felt an all too familiar rush of gratitude for Ed’s understanding and the warmth rising in his stomach only intensified as the lesson began.

Ed was light on his feet and a fast learner, responding quickly to Oswald’s instructions as they began to move slowly in an ever-widening circle.  
Oswald used one talon to raise Ed’s chin to prevent him from looking at his feet as he steered him and counted the beat aloud to help keep him in time.  
After a few minutes there was no need for this and the two dance partners settled into the rhythm, just enjoying and reacting to the music.  
Ed began to throw in extra half steps, seeking to explore new movements and Oswald followed along, wrapped up in the simple enjoyment of sharing something he enjoyed with another person.

Part of him knew it was foolish.  
If anyone were to see them the ridiculous sight would have them roaring with laughter, provided of course they didn’t simply flee in fear when they saw him.  
But this part of him grew silent as he and Ed continued to dance. All that mattered was the two of them.  
This night was for them. 

Ed smiled fondly at the brightness in Oswald’s eyes and the energy in his movements as he led Ed through the motions of the dance. It was like seeing a flower bloom. Oswald’s guarded exterior was totally gone and Ed could finally see the young man Oswald really was in his heart.  
Overwhelmed by how much their relationship had grown over the months and trying to think of some way to convey how much it meant to him without taking his hands out of Oswald’s, he finally settled for laying his head on Oswald’s shoulder. 

Oswald’s heart hammered in his breast as he felt the gentle pressure of Ed’s head resting on him and he bit back an exclamation of surprised delight. He had never felt like this before: his heart felt like it was full of sparrows!  
Was this…was this what _love_ felt like?!

As the music swelled, Oswald, carried away with the music and happier than he had ever felt, spun Ed under his arm, caught him and dipped him low.  
It had been meant as a gesture of light hearted fun but that changed when Oswald saw Ed’s widened eyes and blushing cheeks.  
Oswald was struck by how bright Ed’s eyes were despite their dark colour and the way the fire from the candles gleamed in his glasses. In his finery, he looked more like a prince than Oswald ever had.

Ed, for his part noticed how firm yet gentle Oswald’s grip was as he held him effortlessly. Oswald’s eyes were half hooded and his feathered mane was erect, a subconscious display of pride and achievement, their black surfaces reflecting the undertones of purple and green in the light. The physical display of strength was almost…arousing and images of half remembered dreams rose to the forefront of Ed’s mind.

Before they could become too clear, Ed noticed the implication of the action Oswald had taken.

‘Oz?’

It was if Ed saying his name broke the trance they had both momentarily been caught in.  
Oswald placed Ed back on his feet and preened for a few seconds self-consciously, grateful that Ed could not see his burning cheeks because of his feathers.

‘Sorry!’ he stammered, ‘Got a little carried away there’.

‘No, your leg’, Ed observed quietly, ‘It’s healed’.

Oswald lifted his leg automatically and tapped his foot a couple of times. He then remembered he had left his cane leaning against the piano when he had turned it on without realising. At first he felt delight: no more need to use the infernal thing!  
But then then he too, realised the implications this raised.

‘Oh’.

It was all he could think of to say.  
It seemed a pathetic way to vocalise the crushing, imminent sense of doom that had just erupted in his chest like a volcano.  
They both stood for a moment as the piano finished its tune.

‘I suppose that means-’ Ed began but Oswald interrupted.

‘Its’ time for you to leave’.

‘But, what about the curse?’ Ed asked, noting the lack of emotion in Oswald’s voice.  
It seemed distinctly deliberate.

‘I told you, breaking it wasn’t part of the deal’, Oswald replied curtly, ‘I’ll fetch you your reward in the morning’.

‘Oswald-‘ 

‘Please, excuse me’, Oswald interjected, moving past Ed, ‘I’m very tired’.

Ed sadly watched him go.  
After a few moments, he followed and the candles winked out one by one.

 

Ed closed the saddlebag tightly and patted it. A faint tinkling noise came from inside the stuffed bag: some of the coins had shifted position. Ed had never seen so much gold in his life and had tried to decline it but Oswald had waved it away like it was nothing. Then again, maybe it was nothing if you were living in self-imposed exile.  
He heard the familiar clicking noise of Oswald’s talons on the steps and turned to him.  
He was surprised to see Oswald hold out a rose to him, identical to the one Ed had picked all those months ago.

‘For your lady’, Oswald said with a small smile.

Ed took it, the magnanimous gesture not lost on him. He knew it had to be one of the final roses.  
He would have to get to the village and back as fast as he could. If he started riding now he would be there by sundown.

‘I don’t know how to repay you’.

‘Friends don’t owe friends silly’.

Ed carefully placed the rose into his buttonhole, feeling an odd, unexpected sense of disappointment at Oswald’s use of the word ‘friends’.

‘Besides’, Oswald said with a shrug that took more effort than it should have, ‘My mother always said, ‘Life only gives you one true love. When you find it, run to it’. Kristen has been waiting for you long enough’.

‘I’m coming back’, Ed said, mounting his horse, ‘I promise’.

Oswald did not reply though Ed could sense he wanted to.  
Ed could feel the unspoken words between them like a physical weight as he held out a hand to Oswald.  
Oswald took it and shook it but did not let go again.  
Ed did not try to pull away.  
They both held hands.

‘I can give you the strength of heroes or leave you powerless’.

Oswald blinked at Ed’s recitation. Ed’s eyes were locked on their clasped hands.

‘I can be snared with a glance but no force can compel me to stay. What am-‘

It took all of Oswald’s willpower to let go of Ed’s hand before he finished speaking.  
He could hear the hope in Ed’s voice, the unspoken plea for Oswald to ask him to stay.  
It was why Oswald didn’t look at him.  
If he saw the same thing in Ed’s eyes, he would be unable to let him go.

‘Goodbye Ed’, Oswald said in a tight voice and gave the horse a light slap on the rump.

 

Oswald watched Ed speed away into the night, keeping his eyes fixed on him until he was swallowed by the dark treeline.  
He walked to the rose garden and knelt down beside the only remaining bloom.  
Oswald had picked its twin to give to Ed. Since he was too much of a coward to confess how he felt, he had wanted Ed to have something to remember him by.  
Ed said he was coming back but Oswald tried to ignore the flicker of hope this kindled in his heart.  
Why would he come back?  
He felt tears run down his beak and watched them water the flower. He sighed heavily, trying to ease the leaden weight that seemed to have taken the place of his heart.  
He could feel the words trapped inside like caged birds crashing desperately against his mouth.  
_I love you._  
But there they would stay.  
He didn’t deserve Ed and Ed didn’t deserve to be trapped in a crumbling castle with a hopeless wretch like him.

‘It doesn’t matter now’, he whispered, ‘None of it matters’. 

But voicing his despair did not help ease it and Oswald gave a compulsive shriek of pain, trying to purge the poisonous heartbreak consuming him. He crumpled in on himself, ashamed of his outburst but unable to control it. There had been nothing human in the sound he had just uttered.

‘If it doesn’t matter, why does it hurt so much?!’ he choked, claws grinding into the dirt.

 

‘Miss Kringle?’

Kristen’s smile faded as Ed dismounted his horse. Ed supposed it was to be expected. He had been gone for months and seemed to have arrived back at the village in time for some kind of celebration. Flowers de-decked the windows and people milled about long wooden tables stacked with food and drink. He was unsure which peasant festival it was though.

‘You’re-you’re back?’ she asked.

‘Yes’, Ed said, patting the saddlebags, ‘With gifts’.

‘Oh, you heard about the wedding?’

‘Wedding?’ Ed asked, feeling his smile become brittle as his brain began to catalogue the evidence.

The roses in Kristen’s hair arranged in a coronet. Her long white dress. The flash of gold from her ring finger.

‘Isn’t that why you’ve come back?’ Kristen prompted, concerned at Ed’s lack of reply.

‘But-‘ he began, eyes locked on Kristen’s wedding ring.

‘Nygma?’

Ed and Kristen both turned at the new voice.  
Sheriff Dougherty was approaching, wearing a fine red waistcoat with gold buttons. There was something else gold on his ring finger.

‘When did you get back?’ he asked, throwing an arm easily around Kristen’s shoulder.

‘Just now’, Kristen answered on Ed’s behalf before turning her attention back to him, ‘Did you enjoy your research trip?’

‘I wasn’t on a research trip’, Ed said quietly, his stomach roiling, ‘Didn’t-didn’t you read the letter I left you?’

‘Well, no’, Kristen admitted, crossing her arms, ‘I mean, after the last one you slipped under my door-‘

‘You knew it was from me?’ Ed interrupted.

Kristen’s gaze lowered but Dougherty was more than happy to answer this time.

‘Of course she knew!’ he said, rolling his eyes, ‘She’s the only reason I didn’t break your nose for writing it. Gave me and the boys a good laugh though’.

Kristen shifted uncomfortably at Dougherty’s laughter but said nothing.

‘Can we talk in private?’ Ed asked, trying to ignore his heartbeat growing louder in his ears.

Kristen inhaled slowly and placed a hand on Dougherty’s where it rested on her shoulder.

‘Anything you have to say, you can say in front of my husband’.

‘He’s your husband’, Ed said, unable to keep an incredulous tinge from his voice.

‘As of about an hour ago, yes’, Kristen replied coolly.

‘I see’, Ed said dejectedly and Dougherty gave a guffaw of laughter so loud that people nearby heard it over the band playing on a makeshift stage.

‘You’re still obsessed with her aren’t you?’ he smirked cruelly, ‘You think a fancy new outfit was going to win her over?’

‘Tom, leave him alone’, Kristen said, giving a fake smile to curious onlookers.

‘No Kristen’, Dougherty said in a low voice, ‘I’ve had enough of this’.

He jabbed his finger into Ed’s chest.

‘Listen to me freak’, he growled, ‘You don’t know the first thing about Kristen. When you left she was relieved because it meant she didn’t have to worry about dealing with you anymore. She only talked to you because she felt sorry for you and was too nice to tell you to go away when you started to get clingy. She wants a real husband, not some freak who stinks of chemicals, asks pointless questions and follows her around like a sick puppy! Is that clear enough for you or do you need another hint?!’

Ed swallowed but refused to rise to Dougherty’s bait. He stepped around him and took the rose from his buttonhole. He offered it to Kristen.

‘Kristen, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry if I-‘

Kristen shook her head and took the rose.

‘It’s alright Mr Nygma’, she said without looking at him, ‘I know you were only trying to be friendly but, I would like you to leave now please. You don’t belong here’.

It felt as if the world fell away once Ed heard those words.  
She was right of course but it was only hearing someone else say it that made Ed realise he had known from the first day he had arrived in the village.  
He had clung to Kristen not because of who she was but what she represented.  
And end to loneliness. A supposed kindred spirit to talk to. Someone who might understand him and accept him despite his ‘strangeness’.  
He had subconsciously used her as an excuse to stay in the village. To help him avoid the fear that there really was nowhere he would ever fit in.  
Dougherty was right: he didn’t know anything about her.  
And she didn’t want to know a thing about him.  
His thoughtless pursuit of her was embarrassing and Dougherty’s dressing down had been unpleasant but he was surprised to find her rejection did not hurt.  
Wasn’t heartbreak supposed to hurt?

But...there was an ache in his chest.  
It had been slowly building since he had left the castle.

Kristen, once again perplexed by Ed’s silence, opened her mouth to speak again but her words swiftly changed into a horrified cry.  
Ed, snapping out of his reverie, watched in growing horror as the rose in Kristen’s hands decayed rapidly into black gunk that ran down her arms like treacle.  
Kristen, revolted, threw the remains of the rose to the ground and stamped on it as if it were some disgusting insect.

‘Magic?!’ Dougherty shouted, recoiling.

‘A curse actually’, Ed corrected, his next course of action all too clear.

He grabbed the saddlebags from his horse and threw them onto the ground. The bags exploded as they made contact with the ground, scattering gold coins and trinkets beneath the feet of the wedding guests. Most immediately dropped to their knees, trying to scrape the mud from the gold and squabbling amongst each other for the finest pieces like carrion birds.  
Kristen picked up an ornate goblet and Ed’s eyes narrowed at the look of awe on her face and the forgotten remains of the rose crushed beneath her shoe.  
Appearances. That was all any of them cared about.  
That was all he had cared about once.  
He hadn’t really loved Kristen. He knew that now. He had loved an idea of her he had created in his head. A pretty picture to look at, nothing more. A distraction to guard against his loneliness.  
Now he knew how wrong he had been: he just hoped it wasn’t too late to amend his mistake.  
Oswald’s mother was right about true love.  
Ed had been running in the wrong direction.

‘Keep it’, he snapped, mounting his horse, ‘It’ll only slow me down’.

‘Where are you going?’ Dougherty asked.

‘Somewhere I do belong!’ Ed snapped as his horse entered into a gallop.

 

It was past Midnight by the time Ed found his way back to the castle.  
Thunder rumbled overhead as he ran into the rose garden, knowing that Oswald would be there.  
He had to be there!  
He shook his head in despair at the withered bushes around him.  
Not a single rose remained.  
His eyes were attracted to movement in a dark corner of the yard.  
A pair of pale eyes shone brightly at him from the gloom.

‘Oswald!’ Ed cried out happily but his smile faded as his friend emerged from the shadows.

Oswald was on all fours as he approached, beak open and emitting a rattling hiss as his feathers bristled. His eyes were unfocused but narrowed in a threatening glare. His clothes were torn as if he had tried to wrench the fabric off his body.  
Ed felt a lump forming in his throat.  
He was too late: the roses were gone and so was Oswald.  
It was his fault.

‘I’m so sorry’, he said, ‘I should never have left’.

The Beast gave a roar as if enraged by his apology and Ed was forced to throw himself to the side to avoid harm as it suddenly leapt for him.  
The Beast landed awkwardly due to its old leg injury, giving Ed time to scramble to his feet. He grabbed the pistol from his coat and cocked it.  
The Beast snarled at the weapon, perhaps recognising it as a danger without knowing why.  
Ed placed both hands on the weapon to try and stop his grip shaking.  
He gritted his teeth as he felt tears beginning to bubble in his eyes.

‘Don’t’, he warned Oswald, ‘Don’t make me’.

Ed knew he was bluffing.  
Unfortunately so did the Beast.

‘No!’ Ed screamed as it leapt for him.

He closed his eyes, expecting nothing but death but refusing to pull the trigger in defiance of the mindless fear threatening to consume him whole.

 _‘He’s my friend’_ , Ed thought in an endless mantra of madness and sorrow, _‘He’s my friend. He’s more than my friend! He’s more than my friend! He’s-’_

Then he felt jagged talons cut into his shoulder and hot breath on his face. Both of his eyes opened and were met with the pale, mindless eyes of a monster.  
Ed’s finger twitched reflexively even as they fell together, the Beast seeming to swoop down on him like a gigantic raptor screeching for blood.  
The gun went off.

Ed pressed hard against the wound in Oswald’s stomach, trying desperately to stem the warm blood rushing between his fingers.  
Oswald’s eyelids fluttering, coughed, sanity restored, however temporarily by the pain searing through his gut.

‘I’m so sorry Ed’, he croaked, trying to keep breath in his lungs, ‘The last rose fell and I-forgot myself. Would rather die…than-than hurt you’.

Feeling sick at Oswald saying the word ‘die’, Ed shook his head.

‘I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m so useless: I couldn’t figure it out! I don’t know how to break the curse!’

He wiped angrily at his brow and eyes with the back of his sleeve. Tears were useless now! If he could just focus, he could make this right, he could save Oswald!  
He gave a choked sob as he felt Oswald’s palm on his cheek and the feathers on his wrist tickle his skin.

‘That’s alright’, Oswald whispered, an impossibly calm smile on his face, ‘At least I got to see you…one last time. It’s-it’s…better this way anyway’.

‘Come on, don’t-don’t talk like that!’ Ed cried, plastering a fake smile on his face, ‘You’re going to be alright! I’m here now! We’re together again!’

Oswald’s arm was weakening and Ed was forced to take one hand off Oswald’s wound to hold his palm against his cheek. He couldn’t tell if it was blood or his tears cooling on his cheeks now.

‘Just like you promised’, Oswald replied, head falling back, ‘But it’s alright Ed. It was…hopeless from the start’.

Ed lowered Oswald’s head tenderly to the ground as his eyes closed.

‘After all…’ Oswald exhaled, ‘Who could ever…love someone like…’

His hand fell from Ed’s as the storm broke overhead.  
Ed didn’t move.  
He felt numb, the pain too great for his logical brain to register.  
In a desperate bid to distract itself from the inevitable agony Ed would feel at Oswald’s passing, it latched onto the last puzzle it had occupied itself with.  
In his shock, Grace’s words seemed almost cacophonous as they echoed out of the past.

_‘A face that no woman…could love’._

Lightning flashed and Ed felt as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes.  
The answer wasn’t in a book.  
It was so obvious!  
How had he not seen it before?

‘But _I_ could’, he whispered, afraid that if he didn’t voice it, his heart would somehow burst, ‘I do’.

Ed cried out as he was nearly blinded by sudden golden light from all around the garden.  
Roses composed of brilliant light burst into bloom from the bushes and began to float towards Ed and Oswald. Ed, feeling a sensation akin to static electricity beginning to build let go of Oswald and got to his feet as Oswald began to rise into the air.  
The magical ethereal roses began to dissolve into golden light and swirled around Oswald’s body like a swarm of fireflies, encasing him in a whirling, glimmering cocoon of magic.  
Ed held up a hand against the glare and closed his eyes as it grew brighter and brighter. Suddenly there was a blast of warm air that smelt of roses, so strong that it made Ed stumble.  
As he opened his eyes, the light died away and Ed saw a figure standing in the rain.

Despite his oversized, ragged clothing, the young man was slight with black hair like a bird’s feathered crest. As he looked in wonder at his hands, Ed saw familiar pale eyes that widened when they caught sight of Ed.

The figure exhaled shakily and tried to step forward but stumbled.  
Ed surged forward and caught him.  
Oswald felt light in his arms.

‘Like a bird’, Ed whispered to himself.

He touched the man’s stomach and, feeling no wound, pulled him into a tight embrace.

‘But, how?’ Oswald asked into Ed’s shoulder, awe in his strained voice as he gripped Ed’s back.

‘The curse said no woman could love you’, Ed said, ‘Last I checked I’m not a woman’.

Oswald gave a sudden, almost hysterical laugh as he extricated himself from Ed’s grip.  
Ed obligingly released him despite wanting to do nothing else but hold him close.

‘You're also taller than I thought', Oswald said quietly, adjusting to his unfamiliar sounding human voice.

He stood gingerly, unsure of his new legs and feet.  
He gestured to himself, eyes downcast as he registered the tears in his clothing and dirt beneath his nails. He tried to pull the tattered material of his shirt tighter around himself self-consciously. 

‘Well?’ he asked, voice cracking slightly, ‘Wh-what do you think?’

Ed shook his head and stood.  
Using one finger, he raised Oswald’s face and looked deep into his eyes.  
Shards of white and blue shone in the pale green like seafoam rising on the waves and long lashes fluttered as Oswald’s pupils darted searchingly, almost fearful of Ed’s scrutiny.  
But beneath the surface, Ed could see it: the hidden heart of warmth when Oswald looked at him and Ed smiled: they hadn’t changed at all.

‘I can’t be bought but I can be stolen with a glance’, Ed whispered, ‘I am worthless to one yet priceless to two. What am I?’

Oswald’s eyes widened and Ed saw he knew the answer as a tear fell down his cheek.  
After a few seconds, Ed saw Oswald’s eyes begin to close and a blush rise to his cheeks.  
Sensing what was about to happen, Ed closed his own eyes and let nature take its course, finally surrendering to the feelings he had denied for so long.  
He tasted Oswald’s tears against his lips before Oswald was forced to break away, overcome with the emotions churning through him as he gasped and wept with happiness.  
Without opening his eyes, Ed laid a second kiss on Oswald’s forehead.

‘You’re perfect’, Ed whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up way longer than I expected. I tried to combine elements from the animated film, the 2017 live action adaptation and the original story: hopefully it worked!  
> I may revisit this at a later date and add to it.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
